Comfort
by What's'SupWitChu
Summary: Kid!Lock Sherlock is disturbed when he hears Mycroft crying in his bedroom. This time it seems it's Mycroft who needs to be comforted.


_**A/N: Hello everyone! :) I hope you are well, here is another Kid!Lock story of brotherly love, I'm obsessed with it at the moment ;) Obviously with Mycroft being big brother I've read lots of stories were he comforts Sherlock, and I thought it might be nice to try it the other way around :P I might do a second part to this if people think it's okay. I apologise for any OOCness, but I hope you enjoy!**_

_**Please do let me know what you think :) xx**_

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**Comfort **

There was only the slight scraping noise as four year old Sherlock sat alone in the dining room absentmindedly manoeuvring his fork around his half empty plate. Daddy would normally take his evening meal in the solitude of his study, and Mummy would be out with her friends. So that normally just left Sherlock and Mycroft eating together, discussing what they had been up to during the day.

However, this particular evening Mycroft he come home from school and gone straight to his room; he was yet to resurface. Not even when Sherlock had gone to fetch his brother for dinner had this persuaded Mycroft to leave. _When has_ _Fatcroft ever missed a meal? _Sherlock had pondered to himself in naïve childish thought, but it also worried him a little.

He may only have been four but Sherlock Holmes had a better understanding of the world than most children Mycroft's age, and he knew his brother must be upset about something. Normally when Mycroft was upset he'd take it out on Sherlock, snapping at him to stop messing around, telling him to grow up. Sherlock would usually retort by poking fun at Mycroft's weight or something and then run to his room, slamming the door shut.

Though, that hadn't happened this time. This time Mycroft had come home, his posture slouched and his feet practically dragging across the floor. Sherlock had been there to enthusiastically greet him as always, but he knew something was wrong when Mycroft didn't say hello to him, didn't even look at him. Something told Sherlock he should keep quiet, so instead he just watched as Mycroft traipsed up the stairs and out of sight.

Sighing, Sherlock stopped pushing the peas and potatoes around on his plate. He couldn't stand the silence anymore, and he couldn't stand not knowing what was wrong with Mycroft; partly because his own curiosity was starting to get him again, but also partly because he…_cared?_ Was that what Mycroft had called it?

Looking around to make sure none of the maids were watching him, Sherlock quickly snatched up a bread roll and wrapped it in a napkin to take for Mycroft. The little boy then hopped down from his chair and started to stealthily move through the house. He trudged up the stairs and when he got to Mycroft's room, placed his hand on the door, but something made Sherlock pause.

The curly haired boy pressed his ear against the door and listened. He couldn't be sure, but Sherlock thought he could hear the irrational shudders of deep and heavy breaths, the inconsistent sniffs and bitten back sobs as Mycroft tried not to cry._ No _Sherlock thought with a frown _it can't be, my brother doesn't cry… _

Mycroft was always good at concealing his emotions, and he'd recently begun to teach Sherlock the same. The older Holmes boy claimed emotions would only ever slow Sherlock down, and they weren't really a necessity. So why would Mycroft be upset now? He'd be breaking his own word. Sherlock took everything his brother said as gospel, Mycroft wouldn't lie about not having emotions.

Eventually, but with much hesitance, Sherlock slowly and quietly opened the door. It was dark in the room as Mycroft had switched off the lights and closed the blinds just to add to his isolation. Mycroft was on his bed, lying on his side and facing away from the door. Sherlock could see his shoulders were hunched over and his whole form trembled lightly.

The younger Holmes stood by the door for a moment, not sure how to proceed; seeing his older brother crying was a whole new experience for him.

"Mycroft?" Sherlock said timidly as he began to edge towards his brother's bed.

Mycroft tensed a little at the sound of small voice. "Go away, Sherlock" was his mumbled reply, but it wasn't said with the usual stern tone, in fact, Mycroft almost sounded a little uncertain, like he actually wanted Sherlock to stay.

"What's the matter?" Sherlock asked as he reached his brother's bed and clambered on top of it. That's what people asked in this situation, right?

Still, Mycroft didn't look at Sherlock. "Nothing, I'm fine" the older boy responded.

"I don't believe you, tell me what's bothering you" Sherlock said defiantly as he started to poke his brother's back, hoping this would gain him more attention.

"Cut that out" Mycroft said as he swung his hand back to try and shoo Sherlock away, but the little boy ducked in time.

"I heard you crying" Sherlock stated "And you missed dinner, you never miss dinner"

Mycroft sighed "Sherlock, _please,_ I just want to be alone right now"

The four year old child then took over in Sherlock, and he knew the only way to annoy his brother and get him to talk would be to do the exact opposite of what he said. So instead, the younger Holmes climbed over his brother's back and sat in front of him. Only then did Sherlock realise why Mycroft had been hiding from him.

Encircling Mycroft's left eye was a huge deep purple bruise, and his lip had been bleeding too, a red mark running all the way down. Parts of his hair was sticking out in tufts, suggesting it had been pulled at, and the way Mycroft held an arm protectively across his middle and his crumpled, dirty shirt implied something was wrong with his chest too.

"Mycroft, did someone beat you up?" Sherlock asked in shock.

No one was usually capable of taking advantage of his brother; Mycroft had always talked his way out of confrontation, normally confusing his opposition with his well-articulated and complex words. Why would Mycroft let someone hit him?

"No, I tripped" was Mycroft's lame excuse. Sherlock rolled his eyes; how stupid did Mycroft think he was?

"There is not scuffing on the knees of your trousers to suggest you fell, or scrapes on your hands to suggest you tried to stop yourself from falling" Sherlock observed. "However, there is a faint outline of a shoe print on your shirt, suggesting you were perhaps forced to the ground"

Mycroft gave his brother the faintest of smiles, but the small tears were still swimming in his eyes. "Impeccable as always" he said proudly.

Sherlock drew himself up and huffed out his chest a bit "Of course" he said "but then who did this to you? And why?"

Mycroft sighed. He knew just how stubborn Sherlock could be, and he knew his brother wouldn't drop it. Sherlock was always searching for answers, just like Mycroft, but sometimes the answers weren't always the ones you expected, nor the ones you wanted.

"There are some cruel people in the world, Sherlock" Mycroft said quietly "Those who prey on other people just because they are different."

Sherlock nodded. "We're different, aren't we?" he said just as quiet, and Mycroft nodded.

"You know how I tell you not to use your intellect to show off, because other people might take offense?" Mycroft said, and Sherlock nodded. "Well…today I broke that rule myself"

Sherlock's eyes widened "Why?" he asked.

"This boy at my new school… he started to say…_mean_, things to me for no reason in particular. He must have noticed how I liked to be alone; he _knew_ I was different, so I became his perfect prey. Anyway, I tried to be calm, I told myself a dignified gentleman does not stoop to such low levels as someone like him with such an abnormally small brain" Sherlock giggled at the thought before Mycroft continued "but something inside me…snapped I suppose. I deduced his father was an alcoholic, and his mother was having an affair. Of course he didn't take too kindly to these observations and so took his fist to my eye instead"

Sherlock pouted "But I don't understand. You must only have been telling the truth, your deductions are never wrong" there was a hint of admiration in his voice when he said this.

"Sometimes the truth hurts" Mycroft said "Almost as much as being kicked in the stomach" he added with a mumble.

Sherlock suddenly grew angry; he didn't completely understand what Mycroft had done wrong, and he certainly didn't like the idea of someone hurting his normally strong and composed brother.

"Don't listen to him, Mycroft" Sherlock said assertively "I think that you're brilliant! You've taught me much more than my teacher has and you read me stories, and play pirates with me" he smiled.

Mycroft smiled back and reached out a hand as he delicately began to run it through Sherlock's curly hair.

"Thank you" he said "That makes me feel a little better"

However despite this, Mycroft could feel the sad emotions beginning to well inside him once more. As he looked at his innocent little brother, Mycroft knew Sherlock was soon going to start having similar problems at school too. Other children thought they were freaks just because their intellect was superior, and with Sherlock just starting school this year, Mycroft knew it wouldn't be long before they realised the younger Holmes was 'different' too.

Mycroft dreaded the day when_ he_ would come home and find it was _Sherlock _who was locked away in his room crying. That's why he'd started early in trying to get the younger Holmes to control his emotions, so he didn't have to go through the fear and the pain Mycroft had.

At primary school, the older Holmes had always been secluded and the other children would make nasty comments, but Mycroft had ignored them. Though now he had started secondary school, the taunts had only grown worse, and the abuse had started to turn physical as well as verbal. He thought it would be different, that the children would be more mature as they were older but if anything they were the opposite. He wasn't bothered about making friends; he just wanted to be left alone in _peace._

Mycroft didn't realise he'd started to cry again until Sherlock's delicate thumb was pressing against his cheek to wipe the tears away. Sherlock had lowered himself onto his side, head on the pillow, when he saw his brother was getting upset again.

"You can't cry, Mycroft" the younger Holmes whispered "You're not supposed to cry" Mycroft was invincible in Sherlock's eyes.

"I know" Mycroft whispered back "I know, I'm sorry" he bit his bottom lip to try and stop the sobs from coming, but it was no use, instead they came out as strained whimpers and he closed his eyes to squeeze out the tears but also block out the anger and humiliation.

"It's okay" Sherlock said quietly, and he shuffled over so he was pressed tightly up against his brother's chest and encircled his arms around Mycroft's neck.

The older Holmes buried his face into Sherlock's mop of curls as he tried to get himself back in control. He was embarrassed for losing himself, but also deeply touched by Sherlock's unusual display of affection.

Sherlock was disturbed by the sound of his brother crying and the feeling of his hair getting dampened by Mycroft's tears. He had to remind himself that even though Mycroft certainly behaved like an adult, he was still only eleven, forced to grow up to take care of Sherlock and cope with their neglectful parents. Sherlock felt like he wanted to cry too but he didn't and he couldn't, because this time it was Mycroft who needed him to be the strong one.

Eventually, Mycroft managed to calm himself and pulled away to observe his little brother. Sherlock still seemed a little confused, but he was composed and seemed to be waiting for Mycroft to say something.

"I'm sorry about that" Mycroft said wiping his eyes.

"It's okay" Sherlock shrugged. "Here, I brought you something" he said pulling the stolen bread roll out of his pocket "It's a little squashed…and it's not covered in sugar so you probably won't want it…"

Mycroft smirked; things felt more normal now with Sherlock teasing him. "It's fine, thank you" he said taking the roll. "Want to share it with me?" he asked and Sherlock nodded.

So the Holmes brothers ate their snack, and Sherlock stayed in Mycroft's room most of the night just talking about anything and everything, including the latest adventures he wanted to go on as a pirate. Mycroft smiled to himself as he listened to his brother talk and he quite enjoyed the company.

Other children may give him a hard time, and so would Sherlock, but the difference was that Sherlock would always care for his brother even if he rarely – or even ever- said it out loud, and Mycroft knew he could always rely on his little brother to cheer him up, or at least distract him when he was feeling low.

Sherlock would always be the most important person in Mycroft's life, even if it wasn't very apparent sometimes. Mycroft would always love his brother, no matter what.


End file.
